Penned
by honest.hypocrite
Summary: The diary of Mary Bennet throughout Pride and Prejudice.
1. Chapter 1

September 29, 1811

Michaelmas is almost upon us. It is the day of the Lord and I ought to have this time to my leisure, yet I'm afraid I shan't be doing much writing presently. It is not that my hand is idle, but I shall be constantly interrupted by my sisters and there is too much noise in the house to even consider writing a lengthier account. I cannot even hear myself think. It is a wonder I escaped the parlour. I do hope this new piece of gossip does not amount to much; otherwise this tempestuous excitement might become a permanent distress.

We witnessed a particularly intelligent sermon this morning, delivered by Rev. Gordon (whom I believed too young and shy at first. My assertions were rightfully corrected) on the subject of mental debauchery. I suppose he felt it necessary after news spread of the dismal affair at Mrs. Morris' dinner party. I quite agree. I was not expecting to discuss mental debauchery on our way home for that would be quite absurd, but it was a terrible waste to talk about Netherfield Park. I cannot even remember who imparted the knowledge to mother and it hardly matters, but the short of it is that Netherfield Park has been let to a young gentleman. It is believed to be a certainty but I am much in doubt since the Park hasn't been occupied in three years.

Mamma had only one design in her head and that was that this gentleman had come hither to find a wife. This idea is not only degrading to the man himself, but to the whole of the parish as well. I cannot imagine our neighbours waiting on this young man and he having no conjecture of what is expected of him! A vaudeville indeed.

Father was lucky enough to be free of these marital speculations for some time, as he kept a good distance from us in our walk, but he could not avoid them at home.

Jane, of course, is already a bride. Lydia, a possible second. Kitty protested against the arrangement. Mother pacified her and she is now Lydia's understudy, in case the gentleman finds Jane too beautiful and Lydia too young.

His name is Mr. Bingley, apparently. I can only envision him as a rake in one of Pope's satires. That is only prejudice, of course. But I am unfortunately eager to confirm it.

Oh, Doris just came in to tell me I am needed in the parlour. As expected.

God bless and adieu.

* * *

September 30, 1811

It grieves me to say Mr. Bingley is not a figment of my imagination. Jane is currently sitting with mother by her bedside. She has fallen "sick with misery" and she requires the salts every half hour. Yesterday, father made it clear he would not visit Netherfield Park to make Mr. Bingley's acquaintance. The decision seems quite sound to me since the gentleman shall be present at the Merryton Assembly. What would be the point in exerting oneself so early? The man is probably still unpacking. He would laugh at this urgency and regard papa and the rest of us as simple country people. I would pride myself on it if there were any ingenuity in being simple country people, but there is none. I hear Sir Lucas has called on him already, but mother is loath to receive any account from Lady Lucas. Petty rivalry.

In any case, mamma was very displeased with father's decision and is now bewailing the fate we shall suffer after our father's death. I try to avoid her chambers.

I cannot say whether I am amused or angered by Mr. Bingley's overwhelming influence, I am only aware that these are not Christian feelings.

Oh, the faults of us who expose our thoughts to ourselves! I had better return to my Robert Southwell and hope to temper my ill feelings. I've written so little indeed, but I fear any further frivolity on my part.

God bless and adieu.


	2. Chapter 2

September 31, 1811

I am tired of this comedy: it appears that father did call on Mr. Bingley, after all. He went out this morning and came back with the news. I know it had nothing to do with mother being "sick of heart". He only meant to act so contrary because he loves keeping her in the dark. Mamma is not very good at containing her surprise and naturally, her face acquired the most unpardonable expressions. Lizzy and Jane were out of breath with laughter. Comedy, I say, but of the wretched kind I do not enjoy.

Mother's joy was short-lived, however. Father brought back a very ungenerous account. He could only describe him as well-mannered and rather tall. I hear he might call on us to borrow some books and see the hunting places near Longbourn. I can believe he would like papa's assistance with the latter since I suppose he knows little of the county, but I doubt he is in want of his own library with 5000 pounds a year (this pecuniary detail is already old news). It must be a mere nicety.

Papa made no mention of us, he claims. I am quite grateful. I dread to think of that expository attempt:

"Jane is the eldest. She is very quiet and beautiful. Elizabeth, the second. She is very outspoken and beautiful. I have three other girls, but I'm afraid my use of adjectives can only go so far."

Well, that is not to say I do not think papa an excellent judge of character. That is why I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Mother has sent everyone to town, because she insists she will not welcome Mr. Bingley in her house with nothing but veal and pork in the larder. She believes he might come tomorrow, or even earlier, since it is early noon and chances are he might "wander" around these parts. She must think him quite unhinged.

Is our existence to stop entirely for this one man? Is everyone taking such pains with him, or is it only the humble Bennets?

Jane wishes to walk to the meadows this afternoon. I shall oblige her.

(...)

It is almost night time. We returned from our walk three hours ago and we had a very good supper in the kitchen. Everyone had already supped and we did not want to make a fuss. Mother hates it when we take our meals in the kitchen. She calls it degrading. I call it degrading to wait hand and foot on Mr. Bingley.

Jane could talk of nothing else. I believe she is afraid Lizzy might laugh at her, but she confessed, as we walked side by side, that she is eager to see him. I do not know if I share her sentiments. By now I am waiting for his departure. There has been too much hassle for me to take pleasure in this new acquaintance.

I shall see what transpires tomorrow.

God bless and adieu.

* * *

October 4, 1811

I have been neglecting my scholarly duties for far too long. But I must be pardoned, or at least given leave to explain my circumstances.

Mr. Bingley, for I see he's become the recurring theme in these pages, called on us yesterday. He was attentive enough to send father a note on the first of the month to announce his visit. Naturally, the two days leading to the event were spent in constant fretting and preparation. We were all given something to do, even papa was made to arrange the order of his books in his library so that Mr. Bingley would not get a headache upon inspection.

Mamma was so overwhelmed by her domestic duties that when she caught Doris in her way on the stairs she yelled at her to go to the lavatory "this instant" and scrub her face and neck before anyone saw her in such a state. Doris, poor girl, almost burst into tears.

Lydia had a fit the night before the visit. She sat and cried for over an hour because she was convinced father would not allow her to see Mr. Bingley, since she knew from experience that he held her in contempt and feared embarrassment from his family. She went as far as to presume he would omit having a fifth daughter. We tried our best to assuage her, but she would not be comforted. I was surprised to see someone as confident and stubborn as Lydia collapse under the threat of indifference. Father might be unfair and mean-spirited at times but I never knew he affected her quite so much.

Well, her qualms were quite unnecessary for _none_ of us actually got to see Mr. Bingley or even stand with him in the same room, much less be introduced. We caught a profile at the window and the back of a not so tall (as father had made a point of) stout figure entering papa's study, but that was that.

Mamma, who had made such ridiculous preparations for tea and dinner, sat in the parlour for almost an hour, waiting in vain for father and Mr. Bingley to immerge from the study which they never did. She had intended to speak to him first and give him a brief history of the family and the house, after which she would have called us one by one into the room. We were made to wait on the landing for her signal but since it never came, we stood there like a gaggle of geese, pacing to and fro in confusion.

It only made Lydia (and Kitty) more excitable and miserable.

We did see Mr. Bingley leave the house, for Jane kept guard at the window.

I profess I never felt more stupid in my life. We had turned the house upside down and had worn our best frocks only to hide in our own house and peek at him through the curtain like common thieves.

By now, my resentment was so unquestionable that the notion of being introduced to him at the Merryton Assembly seemed like a cruel farce. I had almost made up my mind to be impishly rude.

Luckily, the chapters I selected for reading that evening mollified me quite, until I felt ashamed of my inclination. But I am sure it has not vanished completely and one more such humiliation will make it permanent.

It is not Mr. Bingley's fault; that I know. Yet can one help blaming the object of everyone's blind adulation?

Today has been far quieter than before, though I suspect we have not seen the last of mamma's furies. She made quite a scene after Mr. Bingley left the day before.

The Assembly is settled for the sixteenth of October. The fixture, I suppose, makes it unavoidable.

I await a denouement fitful for a parody.

God bless and adieu.


End file.
